The Second Letter

I still remember it, you know. In fact, I remember it more than the things we used to do.

It was so beautifully green, and the shine of that sun put a light in both the sky and earth beneath.

The forest we had walked about together was standing tall: its trees, soldiers, remained unmoved as they were back then, with faces refusing to break into emotion.

My little poetry book was pressed against my nose, as I hunched over on the smallest of benches, that my back must have ached, but I don't remember feeling it. The words, Keats again, absolutely worthless: scribbled in yet another language I could not understand, and therefore couldn't replicate…

Kimi.

I wanted you to walk through the footpath, the ranks of soldiers parting for your entrance, and see my reading. See that I was fine, and hope a pang of jealousy remind you of the passion that we had. Or, that you'd see me and realise I was stronger than that: that nothing you could say could break me.

"You think I'll weep: but this heart

Will break into a hundred thousand flaws

Or else I'll weep. Oh fool, I will go mad!"

I wanted to become absorbed and not cry; anything, but that. And yet… I think I did. I wanted you to know exactly how much I loved you. That, despite my jealousy and fear and envy… There is no justification, and no excuse, but I couldn't help it. My passions are joined at the hip, and they're painful.

Then you appeared. I saw your black hair gently rise with your walking. I wanted you to be hideous; how revolting of me! I wanted the light to be gone: that I'd suddenly be wrong about you. That those eyes housed no soul, and once the bricks began to moss I'd see you for what you were. But you were not. You aren't. Never will be. And I know…

I cannot keep a thought straight: too much heat and the railways are twisting and breaking apart. Metal expanding under the sun, and now above the ground. Seized by seizure, in this world.

You appeared, and said little. I saw you, and my eyes blurred. The light of the sun and earth spread up and down into lines, and there was only you in focus. But I held it all. Held it all in.

You. "I have your things."

"Thank you. I brought yours too."

You. "How are you feeling?"

Looked down at the box I had brought. Smiled, and laughed a short and hoarse laugh that tore the flesh from my throat. "I've been better."

She hummed. I looked into her eyes and saw affection and love. That made it worse. Or so I thought… To know love is lost, when someone loves you so. But… No.

"I brought the picture."

The picture. God, Kimi. If you know what happened to it… No, you'd think me a child.

You. "No." Her adorable voice, caught by sadness. I could hear it in her throat and chest. I could hear her heart beat, both squashed together on one chair, and yet forcing herself that we would not touch.

"I can't… Kimi. I can't have it in the house. Don't want."

I sounded like a child.

I wish I could forget. Perhaps, my future self, the words have lost their meaning. I hope so. I hear them often, and they still ache. A rotten tooth.

You. "Okay then."

I stared at it. I saw us, your face pressed against mine. I looked irritated, but it was false. A "selfie" with a disposable camera: you loved your style, you indie queen.

I continued to stare.

"Can… Can I keep it, please?"

That pushed it over the edge. Those words, and the tears came out. There was a long pause, which could have been only a second, but my mind draws blank on that.

You. "Of course."

I couldn't look at her. She gave me games back, and a jumper than she had borrowed. That's when I knew it was over. That blue sweater, that she liked and suited her (it was far too big, but that was the style she liked to project)… She handed it back to me, and I knew that it was serious. I knew that I could hide this under a mask any longer. She wanted to be away from me.

No… That's not right. She wanted to be with me; she needed not to be.

Am I projecting? Was she lying…?

"Even that…?"

She only nodded.

I couldn't stop myself, so I reached over and hugged her. There was a pause, and she returned it. I pressed my face against the top of her head and felt her hair against my face, remembering again. I squeezed harder, and she returned, and I thought…

Then she pulled away.

You. "That was a sad hug."

I laughed, and with it felt a few tears break forth again. Those laughs that come through the most base of pain: our body knows we're suffering terribly, and that blackness makes a flicker the greatest light. She laughed as well, in the same way.

Another pause.

"Kimi… do you need to? Is there anything I could do?"

She paused.

Her eyes again. Fiercely emotional and deep. Shining, too. Shining.

You. "You know I can't."

"But… I love you. I do… I will…"

She did not return this. The first time I recall her not. And it froze me.

She stood. "I need to go."

Please, Cordelia…. Stay a little. Stay a little.

"Not yet."

You. "I have to."

"Please, Kimi."

You. "I'm really sorry."

I shook my head.

Thou'lt come no more. Never, Never, Never!

"I don't know what to do."

You. "Bye, Tommy. Please, please be happy."

I looked up this time, and saw her eyes shimmering again. Three suns now hang about my reality. Can't look anywhere without being blinded. The ground, the sky, the air: turned against me.

"Bye Kimi. I love you."

I kept saying it, making myself a child: I just wanted to hear that sound again, from her soft voice. I wanted to hear her voice crack as she heard it, and she realised.

So young… I was so young.

"Please be happy."

She turned, and I saw her hair flick around, and the back of her head fade as she walked away.

"Look back."

"Look back."

"Look back."

… "please."

She didn't. She disappeared into the forest. Just like that. In the space of what must have only been five minutes, she disappeared into the world. Never to message me again.

Silly things. Never to wake up to a message reading: "Good morning, gorgeous." Never to smile at me, with her eyes not shimmering or shining, but filled with a warm glow. There was none of that, ever again.

And those trees remained unmoved, as they always did.

Worn myself out again.

Best and Kindest Regards,

Tommy Pickles